DISCLAIMER: Star Trek, Star Trek:Deep Space Nine and its characters are
copyright Paramount and no infringement is intended. The story, such as it
is, is copyright Karen Colohan 1996.

WARNING: This story carries a severe downer warning. If you do not wish
to be depressed do not proceed! Consider yourself warned!!!!

GOODBYE IS FOREVER

by Karen Colohan (copyright April 1996)

Garak. Julian Bashir's mind repeated the name over and over again
like a mantra; a litany of all the grief and pain he had ever experienced
in his life. He could think of nothing else - his brain seemingly as paralysed
as his body appeared to be. He could not have moved to save his own life
in that moment. Vaguely Julian was aware of movement around him, the sound
of voices marking the presence of other people. A hand roughly caught at
his arm, but the doctor did not truly register the touch. His entire being
was still focussed on one thing and one thing only. Garak - and the fact
that he would never see the Cardassian alive again.

Whatever other reasons Julian could have constructed to account for an
ending to his relationship with Garak this precise eventuality had never
crossed his mind. If anything the recent political changes had led Julian
to assume Cardassia's reach had been diminished and that the existence of
the lone exile on Deep Space Nine would be of less importance than before.
How wrong he had been. It was no comfort at all to know that the tailor's
paranoia about leaving the station, which he had so casually derided, had
finally been proved to be justified.

Was this my fault? Julian knew rationally that such speculation
was pointless, a painful exercise in futility. Would second-guessing himself
bring Garak back? Of course not. But you were the one who insisted on
taking these little holidays away from the safety of DS9...

Julian shook his head, trying to push away the accusatory voice of his
conscience. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting back the tears which suddenly
threatened to escape his control. No. He wouldn't break down here - not in
front of these people. He wouldn't give them that satisfaction. His grieving
would be done later, in private, when he was a long way away from this hell-hole.
With an effort the young doctor pulled himself together, straightening up
determinedly. He looked around him at the unfriendly Cardassian faces circling
him, his own expression hard and unforgiving.

"You promised me a few minutes alone here," Julian said harshly in
a voice like ice that none of his friends or colleagues back on the station
would have recognised. "I'll thank you to honour that promise."

The doctor heard the whispers amongst the Tribunal members and then with
scant nods of acknowledgement they withdrew one by one. Finally Julian was
alone with the empty shell which had once housed the living soul of his closest
friend, his lover, his beloved Elim.

Click for full size
illustration

Death in itself was nothing new to the doctor, but this was different
from anything he had experienced in the past. None of those losses had been
so - personal. Julian was young enough not to have felt the loss of one so
close, so cherished before. He felt as if he had been bodily torn apart and
some vital, living part of himself ripped from him.

With trembling fingers Julian reached out to brush the smooth, grey skin
of Garak's cheek, now quite cool under his tentative touch. Were it not for
that uncharacteristic coldness the doctor might even have believed his lover
to be only sleeping peacefully. Slowly, delicately he traced all the familiar
ridges and contours of the motionless face, fixing them indelibly in his
memory before they were lost to him forever.

Julian knew that he was weeping, that the desperately fought battle for
composure had finally been lost. His anger at the Cardassians and his stubbornly
held belief that somehow Garak would find a way out of this situation
had carried him this far. Through the deliberately short legal proceedings
he had told himself that some old contact of Garak's would suddenly appear
and have the charges dismissed. Right up until the nightmare moment of the
execution itself Julian had, at least in part, denied the reality of what
was happening - and then it had all become abruptly, terrifyingly real. He
would never forget those last few seconds as long as he lived Julian knew.
They would haunt him forever.

Garak had tried to spare him the pain of it all. From the moment their
runabout had been boarded by a vindictive Cardassian patrol the tailor had
known the seriousness of his situation and done everything in his power to
send Julian away. The Cardassians had no interest in the Federation doctor
and had been perfectly willing to release him, but he had adamantly refused
to leave, insisting on accompanying Garak back to Cardassia Prime.

With casual indifference his presence had been accepted and so he had
attended the farcical legal hearing which had condemned Garak to death for
breaking the terms of his exile. It was a nonsense - and everyone involved
knew it. Though close to the Cardassian border the runabout had clearly been
in Federation territory when boarded. In his innocence Julian had believed
he would have time to contact DS9 and enlist Captain Sisko's help, but the
new Cardassian government had seen a way of ridding itself of one of the
last remaining members of the former Obsidian Order power structure and seized
it with both hands. The speed of the proceedings left Julian with no chance
to involve his superiors on the station at all.

When Julian had offered to try and intercede on Garak's behalf himself
the tailor had mocked his naivety. The Cardassians would not listen to the
truth Garak had assured him - they simply did not want to hear it. Julian
had refused to believe him at first, but as his repeated protests that the
runabout had remained in Federation space at all times fell on deaf ears
he slowly began to accept that Garak knew his countrymen far better than
he did. So preparations for the execution had continued apace and it was
scheduled for the following morning.

The only concession that the doctor had been able to win was that Garak
should be housed in a comfortable room, not a prison cell, and that Julian
should be allowed to stay with him undisturbed. The human was quite aware
of the lewd amusement his request was met with, but it was granted. Garak
had been angry when he discovered what Julian had done and had tried once
more to force the young doctor to leave. He had been cold and hostile. He
had thrown the most hurtful words he could think of at Julian, deriding him
for a fool to believe that the tailor wanted his company.

It hadn't worked. The human knew his friend too well now and saw through
the stubborn pride that made Garak seek to push him away. His efforts were
met with an understanding smile as Julian resolutely stayed by his side.
In the end the tailor had given up the pretence, faced as he was with the
doctor's steadfast refusal to allow his lover to die alone and friendless.
The young man's love had warmed Garak's aching heart and he had been in the
end more grateful than he could say for Julian's vital presence during that
final night.

They had made full use of the privacy the doctor had won for them. Neither
of them had wanted to sleep, nor had lovemaking been much on their minds.
The sense of impending loss and the feeling of helplessness as the time
inexorably ticked away made their one union brief, painful and intensely
bittersweet to both of them. Instead they had passed the night wrapped tightly
in one another's arms, savouring the closeness and talking constantly. Garak
had finally entrusted Julian with all the secrets of his past and in return
the doctor had offered up stories of his childhood and of his years at Starfleet
Medical.

Morning had come far too soon and Julian had been left with no choice
but to dress and leave, knowing full well that he would not see Garak again
until the execution. They had shared another long, probing kiss and from
somewhere the doctor had found his brightest, warmest smile for the tailor.
Garak had managed to respond with one of his trademark grins, sly and teasing,
although inside his heart felt like ice.

Julian did not want to remember the execution itself, but the images
were forever etched in his memory. The barely concealed expressions of triumph
on the faces of the Tribunal had sickened him. The doctor had been determined
to show no emotion, no pain in front of these people, but his resolve had
been sorely tested when Garak was led into the room. The tailor was naked,
his hands held firmly in restraints. He had been stripped of everything but
the quiet dignity he wore like a cloak. He had stood impassively, refusing
to seek out the comfort of Julian's face as the charges and the sentence
were read out.

Only at the end, as Garak was strapped to the low bench which was to
be his death bed did his resolve to spare the doctor further pain falter.
His clear, blue eyes met Julian's for a long moment, bidding him a silent
farewell. All the love he felt for the young man was there in that glance
and Julian's hazel eyes returned the affection in full measure. After that
it was a matter of a few minutes only until the tailor's soul fled his body,
leaving Julian alone and anguished in his grief.

The doctor's thoughts came full circle and he looked down one final time
at his lover. He bent to place a single kiss on the cold, unresponsive lips,
tasting the salt of his own tears. Julian straightened, holding his head
up determinedly. Garak was gone, but he would never forget.